


A Tale To Tell Around A Fire After The Battle

by Elara_Winters



Category: Original Work
Genre: Asexual Character, Character Death, Dystopian, F/F, F/M, Gore, Kinda, M/M, Murder, Original work - Freeform, Science Fiction, also, didn't want y'all here anyways, homophobes be gone bc my LGBTQ+ representation side went rampant, i keep deleting tags by accident cause im sleepy, i wrote this for school and liked it, imma post this then sleep, minor gay character(s), minor lesbian character, the narrator is asexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elara_Winters/pseuds/Elara_Winters
Summary: Elise is a girl just trying her hardest to survive after the outbreak
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	A Tale To Tell Around A Fire After The Battle

**Author's Note:**

> This was for school but I kinda liked it a lot so I wanted to post it  
> (God: so you're gonna love writing, but the desire comes at random times and it flows better in your head but you try.  
> Me: okay... that's difficult but I'll make it work.  
> God: also you suck at summaries and your writing is shit  
> Me: *continues to write and post my abominations* cheers)   
> I'll also edit it later but now i sleep night.

Bleary cold has been all I've known these past several weeks. Maybe it's been longer, maybe shorter. No one knows nor do they care. Not since the outbreak of the _disease._

Let me explain: a little over ten years ago, an outbreak of a strange virus occurred. It covered the globe within a month, turning its victims into rabid animals, foaming at the mouth and _hungry._ They ate anything within their reach, cows, chickens, dogs, cats. Then when so many livestock and pets had been killed that it was hard to find animals, they turned to the next best thing: humans. Clever like people, yet starving. They coined the name 'ghouls' after the mythological creatures that ate the dead. They hunted us. Anywhere we ran, they found us. Tore us from our houses and ripped us apart in front of our children. My own family was killed in a ghoul raid six months ago, so now I only have you, dear reader. I'm writing this to keep myself sane and maybe bring you some entertainment when this all goes back to normal. _If_ it does. If it doesn't then you'll know my story. As proof that I lived as a girl named Elise.

I've been starving for days now. My supply of canned food, something I found when I first came here, ran out the sixteenth. I need to make a plan for my time. Ghouls patrol the largest buildings regularly, keeping themselves up in the short ones, and searching different houses every day. Leaving a few stationed in hiding after they've left the house.

Trapping.

One month ago, I'd met a girl, a few years younger than me, looking to be sixteen. She'd moved in across the street to an abandoned hotel once patrols left for half a month. (They look through my makeshift place once every two weeks.) She was six stories above the ground floor like me, so we became friends, playing rock, paper, scissors every other day. I'd made a makeshift zipline where we'd trade food. Canned peaches for a fresh banana she'd picked up in an old refrigerator. Chicken noodle soup for ramen. She even knew sign language for us to communicate, which she taught me. And to my understanding, she was deaf.

She was a sweet girl, plaited blonde hair, a tiny stature, and piercing blue eyes. She always found some way to do her curly hair, usually two dutch braids. I taught her how to do a fishtail style.

Once the patrols had come back, two weeks later, we both ran to the other buildings with all the belongings that would point to us living there on our left, ghouls to our right. I'd lept onto the next balcony and ducked inside. I'd been lucky enough to snag a temporary home that had an adjacent structure that hadn't completed production. It wasn't a fit place to stay in and the ghouls knew that. So they didn't bother, especially since they were so scared of heights. Another reason I chose a high hideaway. They hated going through the building but that didn't stop them. Just slowed.

The girl had done the same, I thought horrified. She hadn't known what to do and just watched me. She didn't know not to go into her neighboring building. She didn't know ghouls waited for her to step into their trap. She didn't know it wasn't safe. _And it was all my fault._ I sobbed when I heard her screaming. Watched, with just my green eyes peeking out the window, as she was dragged into the street. Her wails were loud enough that if she'd run, she'd still have no chance. The leader of the ghoul patrol grinned down at her, rotting lips pulled away to reveal dull stumpy teeth. _God no._ He reached a hand towards her, and, for some cursed reason, she looked right to my hiding spot. I didn't even know her name. To me, she'll always be the girl without the name, the girl with the braided hair. I ducked down, screwing my eyes shut as she began a totally different type of shrieking. The kind real pain stems from.

So you see? I'm a coward and a murderer. I let her jump into the building, I let those monsters eat her, I never told her about the traps. She's dead because of me.

The patrols come back today, it's been two weeks since she was torn apart. Two weeks since I looked back over the window when they left and silently screamed and cried for three hours when I'd seen the blood and carnage they'd left behind. God, there wasn't anything left of her. Just a puddle of crimson and pearly bones licked clean. It had taken them hours to finish and she hadn't stopped her shrieks for an eternity. Sometimes I still hear them. Hear her. Her stumbled begging. Once, in a dream, I heard her screaming my name over and over and over.

I feel something wet roll down my cheek. I don't even know her name. Never will. But right now I don't need to know her name. What I need is food, and I need it badly. I hoist myself up from the little desk I've fixed with a plastic crate and plank of wood. The closest food supply is seven miles. It would take less than two hours to get there, an hour to gather as much as I can, and get the easy hideable things. Nothing that needs heat unless it gets absolutely necessary. Which will be in another few weeks. Then three full hours back with the extra food. I'll have to make a new meal plan as well. I've only been eating when beyond needed. I have to start planning better. And since the girl isn't here, I won't have to drag her along and gather her food as well. I haven't been to the store in well over two months. Since _she_ was here with food, she had been more than willing to share.

I grip my boots and haul them on, along with a tight, faded, green sweater, leggings, a coat, scarf, and to finish, I pull my dark hair into a bun. Hard to grab, easy to run, and about a dozen big pockets. I dismantle anything that looks like it could be used for people and tuck away my bedding beneath the floorboards. That and two pillows. Ghouls still needed sleep and got tired, so anything they found was their property. Losing my best source of warmth for nighttime is the last thing I need right now. I peek out the window after tucking a knife into my pocket, moving aside rotting, moth-eaten curtains. An empty street with only a stain of what used to be the girl. I quickly drop my hold and let the fabric fall back into place, screwing my eyes shut until the nausea passes. When it does, after around thirty seconds, I take a deep, shuddering breath, sling a thick messenger bag across my chest, and softly open the door of the makeshift apartment. A scraggly black face mask rubbing my thin, pale face. Not exactly the prettiest, especially considering my living conditions, but now's about survival, not catching a guy's eye. I've never been interested in dating people anyways. I peep down both sides of the hallway and dart out across to the other door. Inside held a stairwell leading both up and down. I hurry up five sets until I'm breathing hard and need a break. Unlike when I can just go to the building beside mine, I have to be able to trust the structure I'm on, so that means walking on a load-bearing wall. Least likely to break down, which is exactly why ghouls _love_ to take that route when hunting. Luckily, none are out today, preparing for the patrol tomorrow means they won't have the chance. So I have to take mine.

I haul myself up on a beam. Being twelve stories in the air with nothing to hold and nothing to catch you can do wonders for your balance. I take a deep breath and stretch both arms out wide. I take several trembling steps before I hear a creak. _No, no, no, please just let me make it across. Please to anything that's listening, don't let me come so far just to die._ Thankfully the beam holds out until I've grabbed another. The tips of my fingers whiten when I dig them in harder, latching on just as the other gives away. Clattering very loudly to the ground moments after I tuck myself into a little area without any places to creep up on me. I screw my eyes shut when I hear shouting. Today was too cold for this. After about an hour of investigation, the ghouls who'd originally rushed to see if a human had been the cause disperse (they'd come up that the building was just old and falling as several other parts had collapsed recently). When I uncoil from the small space, I flit around with my hands and boots, not wanting to leave just yet. My arms and legs are stiff from the cold. When I realize I'm subconsciously stalling, I groan. Getting off the building and onto the next isn't hard, per se, just irritating. Especially considering that I can't afford to make any other noises. The second my boot covered feet touch the concrete, I'm sprinting across each structure as fast as I can. The soon I'm away, the better. The scariest part is leaping over the long drop sure to kill me if I lose my footing.

A familiar ladder comes into view, and I sigh in relief. Almost to the forest, then it's a straight shot to the market. A place where, on most days, offers food and shelter to anyone under twenty-one and those above fifty-five if you can prove your disability. They allow you their services for three days, then you're sent off with food to last four more days. ' _A Week of Salvation'_ they call it; I call it ' _A Week of Damnation'._ It gives hope to those who obviously shouldn't have it. What exactly is an eight-year-old gonna do when they run into one of those horrific monsters that run as rampant in the streets as they do our nightmares besides cry? Or an elderly? The market knows this, as they usually send 'collectors' to gather the supplies the dead leave. A cruel world, but our world nonetheless. I snort and shake my head. Not like I can pick up a kid, I'm nineteen for God's sake; it's a miracle that I can even get by now. I hurry down the latter, nearly falling thrice, again running when my feet touch the dirt. _Running, always running. Never stopping. Never slowing. Always running._ A mantra I chant in my head as I sprint. Suddenly a hand, covered in rotting muscle and bone, is all I see for a millisecond before I'm ripped back and flung onto the rock hard ground. I shriek when _it_ laughs. The ghoul I've come to know as the squad leader that killed _her_ , snickers, "Well," he croaks, "what do we have here? A runaway lamb from its pen?" I tremble when he grips my arm, to paralyzed to move, just like then. My gaze zeros in on his face, _he has no comrades_ , I think with shock. I pretend to curl into myself. Silently flicking open the pocketknife I'd stashed earlier. He's arrogant, so he won't expect this. The girl with the braided hair didn't fight back as hard as I will. One slash and I'll be free. Just as he opens his mouth, stumpy teeth glinting I lash out with the blade and dig it into his jaw, my body on autopilot. He screams profanities and swipes at me. I grip his fingers and slash through rotting muscle, separating the hand from the forearm. He howls his pain, and I dart away as fast as I can. Hurtling through the trees for about two miles before I'm gasping for breath with my hands on my knees. I double over and gag. The smell lingers on my clothes, and, as loathsome as I am to think it, I know I'll have to burn these. Ghoul smells attract other ghouls when they realize it has human undertones. It makes them hungrier knowing they'd get richer meat if one already went after it. Four miles later and I'm drudging through the wooden slabs that separate the outside world from the market. People stare as I move by, noting the smell. A few children cling to their mothers, gasping if I so much as look at them. I keep dragging forward to my favorite stall. The heat from summer warms this place enough for it to be bearable, though many vendors advertise blankets and poorly stitched coats. Though what they give those who qualify for ' _A Week of Salvation'_ isn't nearly as lavish. It barely counts as rags meant for cleaning your shoes. I pass the door separating them from us as I come closer to my destination.

Tomnus, an elderly man that's coddled me since my family's death, grins, "Well hella there little Elise, assumed the ghouls gotcha, we did." A man called Elias waves from the back of the stall, I smile back and lift my hand. "It's just been hard. You know?"

Tomnus nods, grin fading. "It 'as." He agrees, "Had a lil girl come in last 'eek. She'd 'ad a bleedin' eye an' all that. Came in a sobbin' an' blubberin' that 'er family 'ad been eatin' to pieces in front of the poor thing. They 'ad done that salvation thin' an' 'ad sent 'er outta 'ere. Drug back 'er clothes an' things this mornin'." His hoarse voice tapers off into a whisper, "She looked jus' like ya did when ya first got 'ere. Ta same look an' all." I sigh, "You can't take in every stray, Tomnus." I murmur. "It'll only make it worse when the inevitable happens."

Elias walks up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I can remember a certain stray who'd appreciated our help." He offers gently to me, to which I shrug. "Of course. Doesn't mean I deserve it."

Tomnus shoves a bundle into my arms, even as he stays silent I say, "I'll never be able to repay you, you know." I don't know why I say it. It just slips past my lips. Elias sighs, "We don't expect you to. We do this because you're like our daughter, Elise." I open my mouth, to say something I don't know when a scream pierces the air. "GHOULS!" they shriek. My heart drops, but I grip their hands nonetheless. Dragging them towards another, less-known exit. Tomnus gasps, hurrying back to the stall. "Get back here!" I bellow, crying out when I'm knocked down by another person. Elias rushes back to his husband, stumbling when a ghoul grips his silver-blue hair. "Leave!" He barks at me, shoving the thing. Tears pool in my eyes. I want to tell them I love them too. That they've been the only family I could allow myself to have because they'd been inside the emotional walls before I'd built them. And now...

I sob, hauling myself up the stairs and into the cold late fall. This was all my fault, just like _her_. It'd been my fault for her death and again for my only family left. I must be cursed.

I run and run and run. Never slowing or bothering to wipe away my freezing tears. I run until I fall into a heap at the hollow of a large tree's base, curled around the still unopened bundle. When I wake next, I smell something sickening. My eyes flutter and I immediately screw them shut when I see _them_. More ghouls in a circle around me. The next moments happen too quickly to process. An arrow pierces the air, wedging into the skull of the furthest creature from me. I gasp as _humans_ engage with the ghouls, overtaking them with ease as numbers favored them. A woman stands out from the rest. Covered from head to toe in military clothes. "Y-you're The Resistance." I croak.

Everyone who's ever spoken to anyone else knows about them. The group that slaughters the ghouls as they did us. The one who stands before me matches the description of Sargent Aiden, also known as The Dragon of the North. She'd commanded thousands of men in her eight years. Fueled by the murder of her wife, she obliterated the ghouls' ranks in any battle she fought, and now _she's right in front of me, oh my god._ She rips her katana (her weapon of choice) out of the leader's eye socket when he stops writhing. When he twitches, she rails the blade back. At my flinch, she snorts, "Never seen death before, girl?" I grit my teeth as my temper flares, "Not all of us can brush off shoving a katana into something that moves."

She grins, "No, many can't. That's why they're dead. You must be something else then." I furrow my brows at her, _was that snark, or was it a compliment?_ Still, I shrug my shoulders, "That or pure luck. Maybe both."

She watches me as her soldiers prowl around looking for any other laggers. They move as smoothly as water in a clear stream. Practiced movements that have my instincts screaming _danger_. Finally, when I feel like her storm-colored eyes might stab me over her blade, she says, "Where's home to you?" I shake my head. "Nowhere now... Ghoul raid finished off any places I know of."

A man steps forward, "Aiden." he says, quietly enough to where no one can hear but us, "You see the way her eyes move don't you? She has good instincts, and from the way she's poised, she knows an escape route." Their eyes snap to look at me.

"How'd you feel about following us?" he asks, "Not anything permanent if you don't want. Just an offer for you to give us a little bit of info and we'll give you some food and a change of clothes."

I cock my head to the side and consider, "What type of information?"

Aiden laughs, "You really _are_ different aren't you? Usually, people are so desperate for my help that they agree straight away without hesitation. We want to know about the ghoul hierarchy here. How they move, _when_ they move most importantly. That type. If we like you, then we'll make some offers. If you can cook, fight, or such we probably will have something for you."

"I want to learn to fight." I breathe. "Like all of you."

She smirks, "Well then, **prove it**."

The next weeks are... _interesting._ I cook as much as I can, clean, and in the evenings I take personal lessons from Sargent Aiden. When I finally fall asleep in the late night, my bones ache, but I never complain. We kill the ghouls that murdered the girl with braided hair, Tomnus, and Elias. Aiden doesn't complain when I fall to my knees after seeing their bodies, only joining her men in grabbing what the ghouls didn't. Supplies if they found any more survivors, she tells me later, adding that it is good for me to let out my emotions in the heat of a fight and training. Saying that if I returned to that place I'd been when _she_ first died, I would let it consume me. She tells me that I should hone it into deadly nonchalance. I agree. And when we return to Boston for more training, I stay.

Three years later I stand behind Aiden. My hollow cheeks have filled, my dull green eyes have life, and my brown hair is cropped to my chin at a declining angle. A gun, rarely used, is slung across my back, daggers strapped along my more muscled form. I watch Aiden in front of me. "Ready soldiers?!" Aiden barks. "Sir yes sir!" We scream. The metal doors slowly open, Aiden begins her sprint, her squad at her heels while the others follow.

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for readin' :)  
> Also I cried when I killed off Elias and Tomnus but its fine  
> (Anyone reading Haunting Shadows, I'll try and update later this week)


End file.
